Murder Repeated

by Lesley Cookman

  Monday morning saw Libby in the conservatory eyeing her newly stretched paper and several pieces of driftwood which Guy had tried to persuade her to use for some “quirky” sea studies. ‘The sort of thing the tourists love,’ he had said. ‘Give it a go.’

  The phone provided a welcome reason to abandon both paper and driftwood.

  ‘It’s me,’ said Fran. ‘I’ve just had Fred Barrett on the phone.’

  Libby experienced a jolt in her solar plexus. ‘What did he want?’

  ‘He’s blaming us for, as he put it, setting the police on to him.’

  ‘I suppose that was inevitable. They were bound to talk to him after what we told them.’

  ‘Yes, but what was worse was that apparently, they’ve also been on to Nigel Preece.’

  ‘Why worse?’

  ‘Because he didn’t mention Preece to us, but Preece thinks he did.’

  ‘But Preece came up in the original investigation. They were bound to get to him eventually in this one. They’ll talk to all the witnesses from that time. And we know they’d spoken to him because Ian told us the police had been warned off.’

  ‘He doesn’t see it that way, seemingly. So Barrett told him about us.’

  ‘Oh. That doesn’t sound good.’

  ‘No. I got the feeling that Barrett had somehow been got at by Preece to keep quiet about him.’

  ‘During Barrett’s private investigation, perhaps?’

  ‘Must have been. Remember what Guy said? He isn’t above using dirty methods to get his own way.’

  ‘Oh, golly!’ said Libby. ‘Does this mean he’s going to try using dirty methods on us?’

  ‘Actually, I don’t see why he should,’ said Fran. ‘The damage has been done now. Why bother?’

  ‘Yes, but why did he bother to try and blacken Guy’s name? Simply revenge. He might take revenge on us.’

  They were both silent for a moment.

  ‘Do you think -’ they both began.

  ‘You first,’ said Libby.

  ‘I was going to say, should we tell the police.’

  ‘So was I,’ said Libby. ‘All we’ve done over the last week or so is say “Shall we tell the police?” They’ll be fed up to the back teeth.’

  ‘Leave it, then? After all, what can he do?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Libby shivered. ‘And I don’t want to find out.’

  After thinking long and hard, Libby picked up her basket and headed off up the back track towards the brewery, Sidney accompanying part of the way. This part of the Manor Estate had been left to become a wildflower meadow, and Sidney regarded it as his own personal playground. Further along, where the restored Hoppers’ Huts stood, now let out as holiday accommodation, was the boundary of the brand new hop garden, the first year bines having now reached the top of their supporting wires. The sun shone, and Libby felt that all should be right with the world, if only she could get rid of her nagging feeling that something was very wrong.

  Ben wasn’t at the brewery, so Libby went on to the Estate office in the Manor. Ben was sitting behind the desk, looking solemn.

  ‘What’s up?’ she said, stopping just inside the door.

  ‘Look at this.’ Ben handed over a piece of paper.

  In computer printed capitals, it read:

  For the sake of your brewery, stop your old bitch from interfering.

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  ‘Nigel Preece!’ gasped Libby.

  ‘What?’ Ben looked startled.

  Libby explained about Fran’s phone call. ‘It’s got to be him,’ she finished. ‘Just the same as when he threatened Guy.’

  ‘But why?’ Ben’s brow wrinkled. ‘The police were bound to talk to him anyway.’

  ‘That’s what Fran said. But he seems to be like that. Revenge.’

  ‘It seems to me,’ said Ben, ‘that whoever wrote this thinks there’s something else to find out. Not simply revenge.’

  ‘And they think I’ll find it out?’ Libby shook her head. ‘I’m not that good.’

  Ben frowned and took the paper back. ‘Whoever wrote it knows something about you – and me, come to that. Does Sir Nigel Preece know us?’

  ‘I don’t know. He might. Barrett will have told him.’

  ‘There is that.’ Ben sat up straight and picked up the phone. ‘I’m phoning the police.’

  Ben reported the anonymous letter to the incident room and ended the call.

  ‘Someone will be in touch,’ he told Libby.

  ‘They’ll be so fed up with us,’ she said. ‘I’m surprised they haven’t asked us to move away.’

  It wasn’t long before a surprised Hetty opened the door and announced Inspector Maiden.

  ‘Mr Wilde,’ he said ‘Mrs Sarjeant.’

  ‘Oh, Ben and Libby, please,’ said Libby. ‘Sit down, Inspector.’

  He smiled. ‘It’s Rob, then, remember?’

  ‘Yes, thank you Rob.’ Libby smiled back.

  ‘Now,’ he said, turning to Ben. ‘Where’s the letter?’

  Ben handed it over. Rob took it with a pair of tweezers and laid it on the desk in front of him.

  ‘Who’s handled it?’

  ‘Only Libby and me.’

  ‘When did it come? Have you kept the envelope?’

  Ben placed an envelope next to the letter. Rob took out a pair of thin gloves and an evidence bag.

  ‘Came by post then?’ He studied the envelope. ‘You can’t tell anything by postmarks these days.’

  ‘How do you find out anything about these things? One printer’s much the same as another. And nearly everybody’s got one nowadays,’ said Libby.

  Rob nodded. ‘I’ll get it over to forensics straightaway. Meanwhile, have you any idea who might have sent it?’

  ‘Libby has. I’m not so sure,’ said Ben.

  ‘Libby?’ Rob turned to her.

  Libby fidgeted. ‘This is only guesswork.’

  Rob smiled. ‘Let’s have it anyway.’

  Once more, Libby launched into her story.

  ‘It doesn’t sound very likely said out loud, does it?’ she said. ‘I feel a bit silly, now.’

  ‘Silly or not, someone sent it. Someone who knows about you.’

  ‘Barrett will have told Preece about us,’ said Ben. ‘Preece got on to him after he was questioned. When would that have been? Yesterday?’

  ‘Last week, I think. You remember we were warned off.’

  ‘But,’ said Libby, ‘Barrett only called Fran this morning. Presumably that means Preece didn’t get on to him until today. No time to post a letter. I’ve just destroyed my own theory, haven’t I?’

  ‘Unless Preece already knew about you. How could he?’ asked Rob.

  ‘Anyone could,’ said Libby with a shrug. ‘We haven’t exactly kept our lights under bushels over the past few years.’

  ‘That’s all very well, but how would he know you were looking into this case?’ asked Ben.

  ‘He knew the singer’s body had been found,’ said Rob.

  ‘And the news reports said you’d found it!’ said Libby, enlightened. ‘On the TV news, remember? Local brewery owner Ben Wilde, it called you.’

  ‘I didn’t actually find it,’ said Ben, ‘but yes – it did mention me. And Colin, of course.’

  ‘Well, Colin didn’t send it,’ said Libby. ‘He wants the truth to be found.’

  ‘And you’re saying Sir Nigel doesn’t?’ asked Rob.

  ‘Somebody doesn’t,’ said Ben.

  Rob went back to the incident room with the letter and envelope in separate evidence bags. ‘Not that I think we’ll find any prints except yours and the postman’s,’ he said.

  ‘What now, then?’ asked Libby when he’d gone.

  Ben heaved a sigh. ‘Let’s go and ask Hetty for lunch.’

  Hetty provided cold pork sandwiches and coffee while being brought up to date.

  ‘What comes of interferin’,’ she said.

  Libby felt herself going red.

 
; ‘That’s not really fair, Mum,’ said Ben. ‘It wasn’t Libby’s fault she was with Fiona at the Garden, or with me at the bat and trap pitch.’

  Hetty shook her head. ‘Better leave it alone, gal,’ she said. ‘We don’t want no more accidents.’

  With this Libby could heartily agree.

  After lunch, Ben went off to the brewery and Libby strolled down to call on Harry and Peter.

  ‘Oh, if it isn’t the old trout!’ said Harry, opening the front door. ‘Decided you want my company after all?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Libby. ‘Pete here?’

  ‘London. I’m here all alone!’ Harry waggled his eyebrows at her.

  ‘So I can have my wicked way?’ Libby smiled in a half hearted manner.

  ‘OK, petal, what is it?’ Harry ushered inside. ‘Tea?’

  ‘I’ve just had Hetty’s coffee,’ said Libby. ‘I think I just want to have a moan.’

  ‘OK.’ Harry threw himself down on the sofa. ‘Moan away.’

  ‘Well,’ he said, when she’d finished. ‘You have got yourselves into a pickle, haven’t you?’

  ‘I feel guilty because of Ben.’

  ‘Look.’ Harry swung his feet off the sofa and leant forward. ‘Although it pains me to say it, this isn’t your fault. Pure accident that you happened to be on the spot when both bodies were found.’

  ‘That’s what Ben said, but I needn’t have gone poking around.’

  ‘Where have you actually poked?’ said Harry. ‘Felling to see John whatsit – and that was because of the pub. Felling again to see the reporter bloke – that was actual poking. What else?’

  Libby thought. ‘I’ve been to see Fiona Darling.’

  ‘Natural enough.’

  ‘And talked to Colin.’

  ‘Oh, come on!’

  ‘What else have I done?’

  ‘Just worried away at it. Nothing to frighten the horses. Who would have told this Nigel about it?’

  ‘Only Barrett, the reporter.’ Libby frowned. ‘And this letter had to have been posted before Preece spoke to him.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Harry, ‘but the police had spoken to him. And been warned off.’

  ‘Why should they have mentioned me or Ben?’

  ‘You said yourself, Ben made the headlines when he found the singer’s body.’

  ‘Not exactly the headlines, and he didn’t exactly find it, either.’

  ‘But his name was known,’ said Harry. ‘Personally, I don’t think it is this Preece. Perhaps it’s someone who doesn’t want the brewery to succeed?’

  ‘Why would they say I had to be stopped in that case? I don’t have anything to do with the brewery.’

  Harry frowned. ‘Ah, hadn’t thought of that. It’s a possibility, though. Ready for some tea, yet?’

  Libby said she was and followed him into the tiny kitchen. ‘I wonder if someone does resent Ben, though,’ she said. ‘I mean, there’s the Hop Pocket as well. Someone might not want that to go ahead.’

  ‘The only person I can think of there would be Tim,’ said Harry, pouring boiling water into mugs. ‘And he says he’s pleased about it. Who else?’

  ‘Someone who wanted to re-open the Garden?’ suggested Libby. ‘But it hadn’t even been put up for sale, so that can’t be right.’

  ‘Someone might have had an eye on it, though,’ said Harry, handing Libby her usual chipped flowery mug. ‘It’s an idea.’

  ‘Well, at least we’ve got a bit more of the puzzle to worry about,’ said Libby, going back to the sitting room. ‘Although there’s still nothing we can do.’

  ‘Look after Colin?’ said Harry. ‘He’ll be going through it, won’t he?’

  ‘Yes, and he doesn’t know about all this business with Preece,’ said Libby. ‘Perhaps I should tell him.’

  ‘And make him worry more? I shouldn’t.’

  Libby went home and called Fran.

  ‘I agree it sounds like Preece,’ said Fran, ‘but as you’ve said, how could he know before speaking to Barrett?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Libby. ‘The whole thing’s barmy.’

  ‘There must be someone else who knew you were investigating.’

  ‘But, as Harry said, we haven’t done much actual investigating.’

  ‘Who knew you were asking questions, then. Or knew we were.’

  ‘Colin, John and Emma, Fiona. None of them are likely,’ said Libby.

  ‘Ted Sachs?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so, but apart from the fact that he was at that original party, I don’t see how he comes into it.’

  ‘We could ask John and Emma and Sachs if they remember anyone else at the party,’ said Fran. ‘We said that before.’

  ‘The police will have done that,’ said Libby.

  ‘They might not see the significance of the names,’ sais Fran. ‘One of them might leap out at you.’

  ‘I doubt it. I didn’t come from this area, I wouldn’t know any of the names.’

  ‘No, but maybe a name you know now would leap out.’

  ‘We can’t ask Sachs. We don’t know him well enough,’ said Libby. ‘I suppose we could follow up our original idea of seeing John and Emma, though.’

  ‘Why not? Although we still don’t know where they live or work.’

  ‘Ben’s got John’s number. I’ll phone him.’

  ‘Ben won’t like it,’ said Fran. ‘I’d ask Colin.’

  ‘I’ll call him now,’ said Libby. ‘Do I tell him about Preece and the anonymous letter, though? Harry says not.’

  ‘I think he’s right,’ said Fran. ‘Call me back.’

  Colin answered straight away.

  ‘I’ll just get the number,’ he said. ‘What do you want it for?’

  ‘Just to ask if they remember anyone at that party,’ said Libby. ‘It might ring a bell. You know. You thought we should do that before.’

  ‘Ring a bell with you? But you wouldn’t know any of them.’

  ‘I know, but Fran said it might be a name we know now.’

  Colin was quiet for a moment. ‘All right,’ he said, ‘but how about we go and talk to them together? The police haven’t said I have to stay in the village.’

  Libby thought about this. ‘Might make things easier,’ she said. ‘When would you want to go?’

  ‘Evening would be best,’ said Colin. ‘Tonight?’

  Libby called Fran and between them they arranged to go and see the Newmans that evening, Colin reporting that John had seemed perfectly agreeable, if puzzled. Ben wasn’t enthusiastic, but agreed it might help Colin.

  Once again they met in the town square car park, Fran got in to Libby’s car and Colin directed them back out through the Sand Gate to a small residential estate built on the Aldeburgh Road. The Newmans lived in a modern semi-detached house in a cul-de-sac with an extremely neat front garden.

  ‘Not wildlife enthusiasts,’ Libby muttered, as they got out of the car.

  John opened the front door with a welcoming smile, Emma hovering behind him. They were ushered into what Libby was sure was called a through lounge, where tea things were assembled on a coffee table in front of a large corner seating unit.

  ‘So, what did you want to talk about?’ asked John.

  ‘Well,’ Colin looked at Libby and Fran in turn. ‘We just wondered if you could remember anything about anyone who was at that awful party. I’ve told the police everything I remember, but I didn’t really know anyone, and certainly not their names.’

  Emma looked frightened. ‘We don’t know anything!’

  John smiled at her. ‘Sorry, we’ve already had the police asking questions about it. It quite upset Emma.’

  ‘We’re sorry, Emma,’ said Fran. ‘But it’ll help to clear Colin of suspicion.’

  ‘They can’t think it was you,’ said John. ‘I brought you home. And you’d had a miserable time.’

  ‘They don’t necessarily think the girl’s body was left in Colin’s hotel at the time,’ said Libby. ‘They think it might have bee
n kept somewhere first.’

  Emma went white. ‘No!’ she whispered.

  ‘Well, you see why we thought it might help if we knew who else had been there,’ said Colin. ‘Can you remember?’

  John frowned. ‘We couldn’t remember many when the police asked,’ he said. ‘But I’ll try.’

  He began to reel off a list of names, all of which were unfamiliar to his three listeners. Emma appeared to recover, and occasionally put in a name.

  ‘And there were a couple who were with Nigel,’ said John, and all his listeners sat up a little straighter. ‘Nigel Preece – you know? You knew he was there, of course. He was talking to you at one point, Colin.’

  Now it was Colin who was turning pale. ‘Is that the one who tried to take me aside?’

  ‘Yes, that’s him. I thought you knew him.’

  Colin shook his head.

  ‘So who was with him?’ asked Libby quickly.

  ‘Oh, some of his entourage,’ said John.

  ‘They always hung round,’ said Emma. ‘There was that black guy, wasn’t there, John?’

  ‘Oh, yes. I’d forgotten him. White-something. I’ve got it. Whitelaw.’

  Chapter Thirty

  Into the silence, Libby said brightly ‘Oh, yes. He worked for Preece in his campaign, didn’t he?’

  Colin cleared his throat.

  ‘Anyone else, can you think of?’ asked Fran.

  ‘Who else hung around with him at that time, Em? You knew them, I didn’t,’ said John.

  ‘Well, I remember a Steve – who was always called Steven – and a David.’ Emma frowned. ‘That’s about all I can remember. He wasn’t exactly popular, Nigel.’

  ‘Still isn’t,’ said John.

  ‘Did you give the police those names?’ asked Colin.

  ‘Not Whitelaw, but I think we mentioned Steven and David. Not much help, is it?’

  ‘You never know,’ said Colin, with a weak smile. ‘Well, we won’t take up any more of your time, will we, Libby?’

  ‘No,’ said Libby. ‘Unless you can think of anything else, Fran?’

  Fran shook her head and they all stood up to leave, the tea things remaining unused.

  ‘I hope we’ve helped,’ said John, as he saw them to the door. ‘I don’t think we have, really.’

  Libby smiled. ‘As Colin said, you never know.’

  ‘Well, that was a shock,’ she said as they got into the car.